


Stated Income

by herbailiwick



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991)
Genre: Accounting, Asexual Character, Asexual Gaston, Bribery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 17:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12017673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: Accountant LeFou is just trying to do his job. Asexual Gaston.





	Stated Income

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Riachinko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riachinko/gifts).



The two strong hands placed themselves at the edge of the table in the empty tavern, one hand on either side of LeFou, the man’s shadow covering LeFou entirely, as well as part of the table in front of him, the outline of the large man a bit imposing, more than a bit, but he knew Gaston’s game.

“H-Hey, Gaston,” he murmured, the open book of tax codes in front of him still lit by the candle on the table enough he could squint and see the words. 

“It’s that time, isn’t it?” Gaston gave a little tsk, a little sigh. Moving one hand, letting the other linger, he pulled the bench under LeFou back a little, giving himself room to sit down, his thigh pressing comfortably against LeFou’s side, warm.  


“Oh. I-is it?” he asked, glancing up at Gaston for just a moment.   


“Time for taxes,” Gaston nodded sagely. They sat in stillness.

Then, in an instant, Gaston’s arm extended behind LeFou’s back, around him, holding him close. 

“I’m supposed to do inventory,” LeFou nodded. 

“You’ll do a thorough search, I suppose. See if I’m _hiding_ anything.” He chucked, voice low.

LeFou bit at his lip. He turned to eye Gaston for a moment. Sitting on a bench in his own tavern, not a stitch of clothing on him. He was too beautiful to look at for too long in the light that way. 

Good thing they just had the glow of the candle. He stared at that chest, just about at eye level with the closest nipple. If he leaned in, rested his hand on that broad chest, he could taste it, maybe even bite it, pulling a sound out of him that was low and rumbled.

He glanced up, made eye contact. Gaston looked at him with smugness painted over with an attempt to look innocent.

He let his pen fall to the table. 

“We should really do this the right way,” LeFou tried. “I mean, they’re trying to make sure no one’s lying. Do you want to be locked up?” He was genuinely concerned for him. Gaston wouldn’t appreciate prison at all. He absolutely hated being bored or not being free to do what he wished.  


“Of course not!” Gaston hissed. “And that is why _you_  are my accountant.” Pushing the bench back slightly as he stood, he scooped up LeFou swiftly, carrying him easily toward the store room, receiving no protest for the moment. 

“I can’t keep doing this,” LeFou finally sighed out after being plopped down on top of a barrel.

“I’ll do all the work, of course,” Gaston teased, and it made him sigh again, dreamily, reaching out to cup Gaston’s cheek.

“I’ll tell you how many there are, I mean,” Gaston said with a nod, as if he didn’t mean the sexual implication at all. “You, undo your fastenings. Pull yourself out, as I...count.”   


LeFou noticed Gaston’s clothes piled neatly on top of another large barrel, placed there just as he’d been placed. It didn’t bother him, that the tavern’s owner probably viewed them with the same amount of cold value, though maybe it should have. 

Why he’d told him how beautiful he was without a shirt while particularly drunk, he’d never know, but he had, and he’d created his own unprofessional situation. Or was it _too_ professional? He had a nice view of Gaston, who was making sure to bend over and linger, who was making sure to stretch. 

“Your fastenings,” Gaston called over his shoulder.   


“No,” he decided after another moment of staring. “You do it. This is _your_  thing, even if I’m the one who always...so, yeah,” he insisted.  


“Fine,” chuckled Gaston.   


“What are you going to spend the extra on this time?” he teased as Gaston approached, the lamp he’d lit while undressing earlier doing a much better job of illuminating his captivating physique than the candle.  


Gaston stepped close, leaned in to whisper in his ear, curling a strong arm around his back and leaning him back into it slightly, so he was almost depending on it.

“Antlers,” he whispered, sensuous. LeFou sighed, and rolled his eyes, reaching out to wrap his arms around Gaston’s neck and hold him close. Gaston cared more about his decorations than he did about having a quick one, and it confused LeFou that he wasn’t interested in acting like he was owed anything but financial favors. 

There were men who were afraid to do much and men who just liked power, and he’d met both, and while Gaston liked power, that didn’t seem to be why he was so...Gaston about it all.

Those hands, true to his suggestion, set about their work, and, as they unfastened his clothing, they brushed against him, finding him half hard. Gaston smirked, like he tended to whenever they got intimate so he could buy things for his tavern. He had a problem.

“Good thing we’re taking these off now. You might bust through them.” The teasing was light, almost juvenile, and LeFou rolled his eyes again, but couldn’t help but be interested in Gaston’s fascination with his size, even though something about it was demeaning. 

“My hero,” he teased back as he was bared.   


“If you have an idea for something we could buy with the money instead, I’m always listening,” Gaston purred.  


“Only when you _want_  to listen. No, I’m all set. Just cut me a break on my tab?”  


“I always do.”   


LeFou nodded in agreement, then, leaning back against Gaston’s arm again for him, he let his eyes close as Gaston’s other hand found him, giving the first, smooth stroke. 

“You’re good at this by now,” LeFou sighed out. He cracked an eye open for a second after he said it, realizing it could have been taken as the critique it was. It was too late in the night for him to keep himself in check with a hand around him, that naked body pressed to him, impressing him on purpose.  


“Mm, thank you,” Gaston said pleasantly. 

So, he let his eyes close again. And he imagined they weren’t actually in the storeroom, though he could smell the alcohol. They were in Gaston’s room, and he was sitting on the bureau, perched high for a nice kissing distance.

As he imagined it, his lips were briefly claimed by Gaston’s. He felt himself fill even more, taking up the space in that curved hand that became more skilled each time they stole away to a quiet spot together among the alcohol. 

Gaston had admitted this wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed doing for himself. His main practice came from touching LeFou. LeFou, personally...couldn’t imagine having that small of an interest in the act of self-pleasure, because he felt like he was doing it all the time, and even more often now that Gaston had shown him...whatever world they were currently occupying.

LeFou looked up again when Gaston pulled his face away, searching his body for signs of how he was feeling about their arrangement, including that arm, its movements rhythmic, the interplay of muscles visible for him and only him.

“You worry too much, LeFou,” Gaston laughed, and increased his pace a bit, added a little twist that earned him a shiver, a bite of a kiss-plumped bottom lip, two heavy-lidded eyes. 

Gaston had told him once he was just glad he was enjoying it. It had been over a year, well, nearly two, and there seemed to be nothing else behind it but financial gain. A bribe, one he worked hard for, pulling little sounds from LeFou.

Once, LeFou had tried to return the favor. He’d achieved orgasm from Gaston, but he hadn’t particularly seemed comfortable with the idea or the result. He’d been a bit quiet, and LeFou had felt terrible, and very confused.

He laughed kindly at LeFou for his little sounds, though. Smiled when he shuddered. “You’re so hard,” he murmured against LeFou’s cheek. “Big, ready to spill soon.”

He teased at the head with his thumb, made sure to drag his knuckles up the underside. 

“Another kiss?” he dared. Gaston bent a little, easily allowing it. He increased his efforts, shifting LeFou in the arm holding him just a bit, making sure the angles were comfortable for them both.   


LeFou made small sounds for him, grunting, gasping now and then against his lips. He could imagine Gaston’s bedroom, being able to see the bed as if they’d one day get to lie in it together and never stop.

When he came, it pulled a low groan from Gaston. He was always so pleased with himself, eyes bright. It was one of the most genuine displays of confidence he ever saw from his friend.

The slick come painted that palm, and some fell down onto the top of the barrel. Some graced his thigh. When his eyes focused on the white patterns it left, he realized he’d gotten Gaston’s hip too. He gasped, couldn’t help but give him another moan. He was so lovely, participating, accepting, in whichever ways he preferred.

“Okay,” he meekly said. “You can claim a little less than we agreed on.” He was a good negotiator, actually, Gaston actually pretty fair when it came to the sport of it, but Gaston was so beautiful, his hip splashed in his come, like he had claimed him.  


Gaston leaned in and gave him another lingering kiss, let him explore his mouth, and did the same, his arm still supporting him, as well as the barrel.

LeFou always dreaded coming by with the tax code, knowing he would be lying, knowing he’d be putting himself in danger.

He always left feeling taken care of.

Maybe someday, he’d forego the counting and ask if they could do it in Gaston’s room. 

It fascinated Gaston, to see him do whatever he could if he wanted to. He’d probably say yes.

Maybe, LeFou thought for a careful moment as Gaston began to slowly get dressed, Gaston actually wanted that too.


End file.
